


Wet Paint

by marginaliana



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a tumblr prompt: "The big one carrying the tiny one away from an argument over their shoulder."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely based on the Alfa Romeo cheap car challenge in series 11.

The spanner was heavy enough that it gave quite a satisfying whoosh when Richard chucked it, heavy enough that it clanged against the concrete a couple of times before it disappeared behind one of the tires of his useless Alfa lump.

"Bored of this," he declared, knowing it would come out sulky but honestly too overcome with ennui to care. James and the camera crew had probably had the right of it – they'd all fucked off to the pub two hours ago, leaving him and Jeremy to continue both their work and their argument.

"Are you ready to give in and admit that you're hopelessly outclassed?" Jeremy asked, straightening up. He'd decided to add racing stripes to his own car, and so had spent the last hour with the spray gun and then with a paintbrush, carefully touching up the edges in between haranguing Richard about anything and everything related to his current challenge vehicle. Given that one of Jeremy's front headlamps was held on entirely with electrical tape, Richard couldn't quite see the point of the stripes, but at least it had kept Jeremy busy and away from the garage's collection of hammers. "Come on, Hammond," Jeremy said, gesturing wildly. "It's useless. It barely even starts!" 

For a moment Richard wished he'd thrown the spanner at Jeremy's head, but then Jeremy grinned and Richard forgave him instantly, helplessly, just the way he always did.

Of course, he didn't need to tell Jeremy that. "Not a chance," he said determinedly. "Besides, mine's in better shape than yours. D'you really think a shabby paint job is going to keep them from noticing the headlamp? And that bit of the door that's coming off? And the carpet?"

"Maybe it is a tiny bit broken," Jeremy admitted. "But just look at these stripes! Look at them! Aren't they sweeeet?" 

A delightfully terrible idea fluttered into Richard's mind. "You've missed a bit, though," he said, trying to sound matter of fact.

"What? Where?"

Richard darted forward, snatching up the spare paintbrush from Jeremy's bucket of white paint. "I'm afraid it's missing a nice big drawing of a cock and balls, just there," he said, indicating the center of the hood.

"Hammond! Don't you bloody dare!"

Richard feinted left, then dodged right again, hoping to get around him, but Jeremy was – for once – too quick. He shifted sideways, leaned down and caught Richard's charge on the jut of his shoulder, lifting him up into the air with a great heaving breath.

Richard felt his face flush bright red, sharp and hot as his feet left the ground. "Put me down, you great oaf!" he shrieked. They didn't usually wrestle like this, didn't even usually touch but for the occasional handshake or clap on the back. Most of the time he'd been grateful for that, because it meant he could disguise the very distinct reaction he always got from Jeremy's touch. But that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it, sometimes when he couldn't sleep – thought about the long, warm stretch of Jeremy's legs, about the weight of Jeremy pressing him down into the sheets. He knew now that he'd be thinking of this, too, late some future night with one hand on his cock and the other stuffed into his mouth to muffle his moans.

"Nope!" Jeremy said with a laugh. He slung an arm over the backs of Richard's knees and walked them away from the car, wobbling a little as Richard kicked at the air but otherwise unexpectedly strong under Richard's weight. 

Richard bit the inside of his cheek, trying to will his erection away, but the sting of pain barely made a dent in his growing arousal. "Put me down right fucking now," he growled. In a flash of inspiration he slapped at Jeremy's back with the paintbrush, leaving a bold white smear across the blue fabric. "Ahahaha!"

"Why, you little—" Jeremy said, giving him a shake. Richard slapped him with the paintbrush again. "Hammond!" The hand holding Richard's knee slid upwards to the back of his thigh. 

Richard had a sudden vision of the two of them in bed together, Jeremy's big hands spreading hotly all over his bare skin. His cock throbbed. "For god's sake!" he said desperately. "You'll ruin your—"

Jeremy dumped him right on his arse on the bonnet of James' car. Richard grabbed at his shoulders for balance and somehow only managed to end up with his arms slung around Jeremy's neck, one hand trying not to smack Jeremy in the head with the paintbrush and the other curled into his hair like some dreadful romantic cliché. 

"—back," Richard finished weakly. 

For one taut moment they just looked at each other. Richard knew he should look away, should come up with a joke to excuse the obvious bulge in his trousers, but somehow all he could do was stare. Jeremy's lips were parted, damp, his eyes dark and intense. The harsh sound of his breathing echoed in the space between them. 

"Oh, fuck it all," Jeremy said, low and shaky. He clenched his hands in the fabric of Richard's shirt and leaned in. And then they were kissing desperately, all tongues and teeth and hot, panting breaths. Richard groaned, arching up into the kiss. If he'd had more time to think he might have doubted the reality of the moment – might have thought it the prelude to some great laugh at his expense – but there was no time for any of that, no room in his head for anything but the feeling of Jeremy's lips against his and the solid press of his hands to Richard's sides. Jeremy kissed hard, fast, like he was determined to get his money's worth from every single second.

At last Jeremy pulled away, sucking in air. Richard put out a trembling hand to steady himself – and realized only after he'd done it that it was the hand with the paintbrush. When he turned his head to look, he discovered there was now a large white smudge in the middle of the hood of James' car. He looked back at Jeremy, found him flushed and wide-eyed but with a faint, gleeful smile slowly stretching across his face. 

Richard opened his mouth, closed it again. "You know, I think James' car might need that touch up even more than yours," he said finally.

"Oh, absolutely," Jeremy said.

"And after that, you can buy me a drink," Richard said, trying not to make it sound like a question.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," Jeremy allowed. "We've been working so hard, and all that." He took a step back, and then another. "Perhaps we could both use a little _pick me up_."

Richard laughed, and then threw the paintbrush at him.


End file.
